I Remember Papa
by AnotherJounin
Summary: A twelve year old Elysia Hughes thinks about her father and finds something of value. Short, sweet and complete.


Disclaimer- I do not own FMA. I do own five bookcases full of books which I will defend with my life.

I Remember Papa

You always find a lot of things when you move house. That summer we moved from the two story house that I'll always think of as home to the little five room flat in Moss Hill Street. I found the box of photos when I reached for what I thought was an empty shoebox at the top of Mama's closet. I only found it was full when I tried to pull it down and its contents spilled all over the floor of the closet. Photos. Dozens of them.

They were old, a glance could show that, and nearly all of them were of me. No surprise there. My Papa could have set a world record for number of photos taken. I crouched to pick them up. Me at the park on a swing, me on the slide. Me at the bottom of the slide. Me on top of the junglegym. Me showing off the cut on my elbow from falling off of the junglegym. Me eating icecream. Me in my wading pool. Me and Mama. Me 'reading' a book. Me banging on the rice-cooker in the kitchen. Me 'helping' Mama set the table. Me playing with a garden hose. Me with birthday cake all over my face. Me asleep on Mama's lap. Me in my kimono. Me in the garden. Me asleep under a pile of laundry. Me with my teddy-bear that Winry gave me.

I collected them all and put them back in the box. How many rolls and rolls of film had my Papa spent on me? Well over a hundred, I was sure. It made me smile to think of it, but it hurt too. Because I knew he was taking all of those photos first because he could and because he wanted to share the joys of family life with all of his co-workers- whether or not they wanted said joy to be shared! But he was also taking them against the day when I went off to university, or followed his footsteps into the military. He was taking them to have happy memories of me when I would be far away. He was taking them to embarrass me with when I brought home a boyfriend, to show my children if I ever had any.

And it had been brutally unfair that he never got the chance to take out these photos and have those happy memories. Life doesn't play fair. I know that.

But what was even more unfair that there were so few pictures of him and me. He'd almost always relegated himself to photographer of events- claiming, so Mama told me, that only he could get the best pictures of me. And really, in comparison to my Mama, that wouldn't be too hard to do. We have about a box full of thumb shots, camera lid shots, ground shots and overexposed shots that Mama took.

So to remember my Papa I had my own imperfect memory and the two photos on the memorial table- Papa and Roy-ojiisan, and Papa in a group picture of Roy-ojiisan's office. Then there was the tiny little locket picture Mama had of Papa, but it was a picture of Papa from before they were married and he looked strange in it, not at all the way I remember him looking.

"What do you have there, Elysia?" Mama asked, startling me back into the present.

I explained.

She shook her head and smiled. "Your Papa and those cameras... Did I tell you that I bought him his first really good camera for a wedding present? He seemed to think that I should make it an anniversary tradition!" she laughed.

It was good to see that she laughed and didn't get sad right away after laughing. When she was sad, I was sad.

"Ara- you missed one!" she bent over and snatched the last photo from where I had indeed missed it- it had fallen beneath the rack of clothing that hadn't yet been packed. "There," she handed it to me.

Sometimes, I have the feeling that someone upstairs smiles at me. It's hard to explain, but when certain songs come on, or when I see something really beautiful in nature that I want to take a picture of, I know who it's from.

The picture was at a slightly slanted angle, but it looked normal if you held it differently. I recognised the couch right away- it was the couch in the front room downstairs. I recognised the pajamas, Mama still kept some of Papa's clothes, in boxes that I'd look through from time to time. I could never forget that familiar face- relaxed in sleep, dark hair a mess, head tilted slightly up and to one side, quite possibly drooling. And there, wide awake, lying on Papa's chest, eyes sleepy but curious, mouth opened, not in a howl, but in a vacant sort of 'o' a one-year old me stared at the camera.

"Mama, did you take this?"

She frowned thoughtfully and looked more closely at the picture, then she smiled in recognition. "Oh no, if I had, Papa's head probably wouldn't have made it into the picture. Look, there's paperwork all over the coffee table. You can thank Roy-ojiisan for that picture."

"I will," I promised.

She proffered the box to put the photo away, but I shook my head. "I think I'll hold on to this one for a while."

I taped it inside my journal so it would be safe, and so I could see my Papa every day.


End file.
